Creation Myth

Christopher Citro

Vol. 87 Issue 3

Overgrown weeds had hidden the car untilthe brushfire revealed it. Once the doors cooled,neighborhood kids came to investigate. One rubbeda circle clear with his sleeve and clicked his glassesagainst the window. A beautiful woman layagainst the seat—black dress, sparklesaround her neck, confetti in her hair.Next to her sat a man in a tuxedo,a noisemaker stuck out of his lapelwhere there was also a flower—his face towardthe woman, and each of their eyes were closed.One of the boys banged on the hood to seeif that would do anything. Timmy sawthe man open his eyes without moving his head.He saw the woman and smiled. The moment he did,she opened her eyes and smiled. They turned,he started the car, she adjusted a dress strap,and the car exploded to life. It leapt from the ash pile,just missing the boy who’d slammed on the hood.Timmy, having jumped back, watched itrun through the field, up to the road and away.Later, as a grown man, he’d sometimesthink of the woman, the way she looked straightahead as she reached to her shoulder, slidingthe black strap up and over, and whenhe walked his feet barely pressed the ground.